Man and Monsters
by Terence
Summary: A rolling stone gathers no moss, and after the Age of Strife humanity's stone was shattered into a million pieces, but the person powerful enough to rejoin and restart the stone is gone. The stone that was shattered its pieces were not all found, some pieces continued rolling and a rolling stone can shatters all in its wake.
1. Sterold 1

The immaterial tempest flickered in and out of existence, its vibrant colors dulled, its eddies of infinite energies waned, the stars beyond its gaping form shone through for a few moments. The warp storm that caged his people to the rest of the galaxy was finally subsiding, and with it the rediscovery of their victory over all adversity or their vigil for the countless heroes.

The training was done inside the cyber simulation, the name used for the training machine was either the Jar or the Bowl, it simulates the dangers and perils found inside the warp making it a safe way of training Psykers outside the Empyrean. Aside from the Jar, they also had drone training, in which they command armies of drones using their Sorcery to mediate and organize the information from all the sensory equipment inside each drone and issue commands without delay and without probability of interception.

The training inside the Jar has been increasingly removed and more time was being inputted to the drone training, Sterold did not enjoy the drone training as it greatly strained his mind, between managing the army of drones and actively avoiding the perils of the Warp, it was grueling in every regard as managing somewhere between 300k to 1m drones whilst keeping his significant presence in the Warp veiled from its denizens to the psychic coordination between fellow Psykers they had to maintain.

Sterold is currently on a planet inside the Warp storm, he has been there for approximately 3 months in realtime, and most if not all the planet was already under occupation with only the warp portal on the poles giving resistance. Those months have been the most mind racing and straining part of his life, the small scale drone combat was gone and has been replaced by armies of drones to drive back their enemies.

The planet was a dull red and had far stretching plains across its surface, it was devoid of atmosphere and oceans, only a ominous haze of dust that toned the sky a blood red and surface upon closer inspection was opposite to the view from space, the planes without end was disrupted and disregarded. The landscape was already visibly scarred from the constant warfare, craters the size of cities and scars that ran kilometers in length weaved across,and whilst eldritch energies blew like a baleful gale across its surface, its poles light up like miniature suns as battle was waged between material and immaterial forces across the veil between reality and unreality, the roars of rage, moans of pleasure, cackle of delight, and groans of the dying echoed on the winds of the immaterium and ominous sky.

The Daemons stubbornly refused to yield the small planet to humanity, as sea of lesser and greater daemons poured out from the warp portals and unleashed all their might towards the drones. They fought with cunning brutality and tried with all their might to combat the encroaching drones, employing tactics and strategies which either resulted in minor defeat or pyrrhic victories, with every kilometer of ground gained the muck of daemons thickened in number.

The drones held a steady pace of progress against the sea of enemies, their weapons turning once great daemons into giant explosions of subatomic particles and radiation as they were fissionized upon impact, the radiation wash would have undoubtedly killed any and all organisms that might have survived the warp storm, or the plagues that were spewing out of the portal, even Sorcery found little purchase to survive to onslaught as the sub-light projectiles ripped through warp defences, it was a fight between an unstoppable force against limitless force and it was glorious to beheld. The drones moved with purpose and fired with unwavering accuracy at their targets, they ducked and weaved against daemon blades and avoided the mystical powers of more sorcery inclined enemies, millennia of programming against hordes of daemons founded great purchase upon the daemons.

Sterold's near omnipresent view of the battlefield greatly helped in creating strategic and tactical maneuvering for his drone forces, every step of the battle the real time information was processed in warp and decisions were made almost instantaneous in real time, but in the warp the choice was decided upon with great mind.

A few ten thousand of daemons were attempting to push out of the encirclement, against only a few thousand drones defending a 100 sq km valley. Sterold noticed their push instantaneously from ground and orbital drones sending information, with staggering odds assailed upon the drones, they fought a steady retreat banishing scores of hapless daemons who were continuing their assault. The drones were surrounded upon a massive crater the size of a city and were being picked apart from blade and magic, as more daemons flooded into the crater the rate of destroyed drones rose proportionally, and upon the last stroke of axe into the last drones the daemons bellowed their victory, that was short lived.

Sterold has redeployed heavier drones to rid them of the daemon problem and only at the cost of sacrificing a few thousand standard drones, the victory was already decided even before the first drone fired his first shot into the attackers as the staggering amount of information fed to Sterold ensured not a single move was to surprise him, even against illogical enemies. In a few short seconds the thousands of daemons inside the crater was banished to the warp once more and all that was left was molten rock that glowed like a star.

The final push was begun as the scores of demons could not withstand the encroaching drones, their larger cousins banished and would not be back for a long while, as such did most of their fighting strength, and with the war decided the daemons made a hasty charge into banishment or retreat back into the Empyrean. The few daemons that refused to retreat back onto the immaterial were ended quickly, blood letters and other minions of Khorne stubbornly fought on until the last of their strength faded. The combat was short lived and only the portals were left to be closed, those swirling holes in reality becoming no more than a window to the Empyrean.

Sterold teleported to the nearest drone, and began to close the warp portals, there was little resistance from the denizens on the other side and closing the portals would prove warp portals fizzled out and disappeared from both poles and the planet was finally under foot. Sterold himself breathed a sigh of relief as the sea of daemons was decidedly gone from the material plane.

The battle was over and Sterold took stock of his army, 300k drones destroyed over the entirety of the campaign, of the destroyed 245k was of standard units and the rest remained of heavy and special units. This was the most brutal campaign he fought since he began his training, he has already lost more drones in this one campaign than his entire training course collectively, the fighting has been brutal and relentless, especially against those Greater Daemons that proved more attuned to warfare than their lesser cousins, he especially hated Great Unclean ones since they would not be fissionized in a few hits like his brothers.

He removed his helmet and his connection to the drones along with it, the thousands of senses he sensed from the drones was gone and only sensing the things that were local to his own body. The drones remained motionless like statues of might, they were bleached white from the radiation wash and a few were badly dinged and dented, limbs missing and the odd half destroyed ones crawling on the floor. It was a veritable army at his personal disposal that proved time and time again successful against his enemies, in a year or so he would be completely in command of them.

It was the final leg of his combat training and only one more year remained before his graduation into a Strategic Level Psyker for their Empire. His level of Psyker was very rare throughout their Empire and only 9 others shared this level of power, given that the others were already in active service, he would not expect there to be more than a few thousand of their kind. The other more powerful than him were rarer still, and only the King and his dynasties first sons were confirmed System level Psykers and they were only 5 in number.

Sterold felt favored by Aspect Tzeentch since he was lucky enough to be born a Psyker, and was afforded a life of privilege with his foster family of Psykers. He often thanked his foster parents for containing his great power when he was little, otherwise he would have been consumed by the warp and its denizens, from there onwards he never once looked back to seek his biological parents.

Pushing aside his thoughts Sterold sent the psychic message to his instructor Sylla and informed her that he was awaiting the final leg of his training, and that another planet has been added to the growing Empire and is ready for exploitation. The truly practical way their Empire survived almost 15 millennia inside this stupid pocket of space was from battling control of space from the daemons that claimed them as theirs.

It was Sterold's last year of training, and himself and classmates were currently on a small starship idling on the edge of the warp storm. It was a small ship according to what he himself divined with his powers, it was cylindrical and did not reflect any light, it was barely a kilometer in length and had no weapons on it, only void shield and armor enough to survive a supernova at reasonable distance, a survival ship if he was to guess.

Their final leg was where countless others fail and never return, the current expected survival rate was 70% and has significantly improved since the first attempt 15 millennia ago, still fear remained inside the heart of each Psyker as they were expected to survive inside the Empyrean for an entire year. The daemons they fought in reality with steel and science where they held the advantage was easy, but to survive inside the Empyrean with their ever hateful rage and unequalled perception it was unlikely to falter against lesser men. The Psykers of their level and with the amount of training and practice they had it was not an impossible task, and very achievable if one kept his will and mind from being engrossed in the Immaterial nature of the Warp.

The room lit up and a doorway of Dark Glass was in the center of the rooom, it exuded a macabre aura as the veil between reality and unreality was replaced with a door of simple design and most basic of woods, beyond it the warp itself and it would only open from one side. Sterold steeled himself as he opened the door and walked into the Infinite Realms of the Warp.

The depths of the warp was as endless and senseless as it has been, the myriad of creatures that inhabits its infinite realm was going about their predetermined business. It was calming and surreal with the sky of endless colors and forms, with ground of indiscernible texture and landscape forever a question on its makeup. The time without pace and events without cause or effect was chaotic, but comforting in its consistency of inconsistency.

This was the relief Sterold finds amongst his harsh and unforgiving training regime. The feeling of years inside the Jar mastering his Sorcery, and the exhausted mind he found hours later when he awoke in realspace. It was in the Warp where he found his peace, likewise where his fellows found their lusts founded. He expected more of a problematic stay as since his first entry an eternity ago, but gradually he found that hiding himself from the seeking gaze of the Warp was easier as one got used to it and eventually became as easy as breathing. The only hard part was attempting to refuse the lures that the realm gave, from eternities of pleasure or power with equal, these were the hollow promises of a realm built by hollow sentients. Keeping ones sanity was also hard.

The peace was interrupted when a powerful Psyker entered the Empyrean, Sterold could feel her power creating waves across the Immaterium,

Sterold focused his Warpsight and made sense of the being behind the power, to his surprise he found that the power was that of Sylla their warp instructor and was currently beset upon by hordes of daemons. He immediately went to aid his instructor against the mass of daemons, upon arriving finds 4 of his classmates fighting alongside Sylla. Sterold unleashed his Psychic might on the daemons and finally drew their ire.

"That is 5 of the initiates, 2 weeks worth of work finding you all and it seems we have already overstayed our welcome" Sylla said.

"The others should also be drawn to our familiar signatures" Sterold said.

"I give the others 2 hours or we leave without them, its getting unsafe and the daemons would only pour on in ever greater numbers" Sylla stated.

So the 6 of them fought the denizens of the warp with eldritch fire and lightning, conjuring warp weapons for their own use against sorcery resistant daemons and particularly hard to disable ones. Sterold himself favored the use of spear, and he conjured himself a halberd and used it to impale lesser daemons.

As the battle progressed two more of his classmates arrived into the fight and likewise fought alongside them against the scores of daemons. Amongst the ranks of daemons stood out a familiar face with a partially familiar aura, the slight difference is that it exuded a dark lust for violence and sex directed towards Sylla.

"I have come to claim my prize as Slaneesh promised" his classmate declared.

"These mortals are sorcerers and as such belong to the Changer of Ways" a Horror of Tzeentch declared.

At which Sterold's classmate responded with lightning towards the Horror whole promptly disappeared afterwards.

"Time to leave, they are beyond our help and have already succumbed to the temptations of the warp" Sylla declared and opened a portal back to real space. They all hurriedly retreated back through the portal, with Sylla being the last one through it.

They found themselves on a small planetoid inside the ominous warp storm, it was barren and desolate. The curiosities about it was it held an atmosphere conducive to human life, and also the 3 ranks of drones aiming their weapons towards their relative direction, which was less conducive to human life, also the roars of angry daemons on their heels was surely against their immediate lives.

"Close the portal" Sylla commanded at which everyone followed.

The portal fizzled out of existence in a swirl of purple mist. The drones likewise lowered their weapons and the daemons were safely behind the veil of reality. Sterold was glad to return to real space and have a little semblance of consistency in what he perceived even if it was the barrels of weapons capable of fissionizing whole heads of greater daemons.

As the sense of relief washed over him, he also felt the reason of his stay in the Immaterium all came flooding back to his mind. He has done it, he has survived the final test into becoming an official Strategic Level Psyker, that decade of his life spent with brutal training and endless migraines coupled with Psychic reprimands from Sylla was finally over. The graduation rites were the only remaining process to cross and he could feel the joy in the warp. The feelings of countless other Psykers.

The feeling of gladness from no less than a thousand Psykers was permeating the battered veil of reality and filled the sky with auroras of infinite color. The once barren surface was now a sea of colorful blades of grass and other plant life, with spectres of little animals dancing on the plains of color, a few were puking rainbows. They finally made it into the secret planetoid of their dreams.

The planetoid was where countless other Psykers got their certification, from lowly Industrial Level Psykers to the impossibly strong System Level Psyker. This was the final step in their journey into growing of their power and from them on the world was their oyster.

The ceremony was headed by the heir to the Imperial crown, Adam MVI, one of the few System Level Psykers. The graduating Psykers took oaths to fight for the crown with unwavering loyalty and promised upon the Aspects of the Warp their souls if they ever do otherwise, afterwards they were given their official Psychic IFF and their postings.

Sterold was given official command of the 246th Strategic Drone Army and was stationed to the south western expanse of their limited space, he was joined by several others who commanded smaller amounts of drones. His new army consisted of 1 million drones of various units proportions to expand and defend the Empires holding in their command.

The party was short lived as an unexpected event occurred, the entire planet ceased to be molded by the joys of the Psykers and the veil between realms resolidified. The sudden waning of the warp storm, cleared the path for their Warpsight to peer through its haze for the first time in 15 thousand years. The sight beyond the storm was short lived as the storm quickly returned and disrupted the flow of reality, but the sight that everyone saw was burned to their minds and the sky above mirrored it, a massive warp rift that tore the galaxy in half, a dozen warp storms that dwarfed others in size and scale, whilst a faint glow of golden light shone against the background of chaotic energy. The energy they felt was familiar in presence, it felt very similar to the warp signature of the Royal Family, in reference Adam MVI glowed with the same hue only with less intensity and brightness.


	2. Juliarus 1

Juliarus I

The debris of the former world of Weabaou drifted across the void of space, its once prosperous civilization now lay adrift in the cold embrace of space, the humor of the worlds magma core spilling like filling for a pastry lost to hungering space.

The populations of Weabaou had fallen to the vile pleasures of Slaneesh and engaged in heretical prosthesis that defiled the purity of human form. Their unsightly changes turned them into over robust women with lid less eyes that were constantly seducing the male population, however the men directed their lusts towards animated figures and made love or engaged in simulated copulation with artificial constructs. This was the level of damnation the worship of Slaneesh led towards, and that damnation was quick to come to fruition.

The planet was deemed nonessential, and a such was immediately declared forfeit. The writ of exterminatus was declared and the planet was thrice damned for heresy along with the entirety of it's inhabitants.

The sentence was carried out by Cyclonic Torpedo from High Orbit by the Inquisitorial Black Ship Doom Slayer under the Command of Lord Inquisitor Juliarus Manibulae.

The Lord Inquisitor was an old man with grey hair and wrinkled facial disposition and a deep voice that spoke with wise authority and respect, alongside 3 centuries of experience fighting against the heretic, xeno, Psyker and daemons for the Imperium. He vaguely aligned for the Ordo Malleus but pursued any and all threats regardless of jurisdiction whether against Astartes or members of the Mechanicus. He wore ancient Artificer Power Armor with a Psychic Hood to contain his Psychic Power, rarely seen outside the armor and in constant state of meditative silence when not carrying out official duties. Little was know about him, less so than other Inquisitors, he valued his privacy and that of others and it reflected on the men in his charge.

The Inquisitor valued his troops lives in high regard and would readily sacrifice war gear to save his men, this was furthered by his insistence that all men capable of being saved was to be saved regardless of costs which gained him admiration from his men and great ire from the Mechanicus.

Those he declared enemies of humanity however was not met with the same value, be they xeno, heretic, or daemon they were worth little to nothing to the Inquisitor, redemption was not in his vocabulary and mercy likewise was a bolter round in the head. He would willingly chase enemies across the vastness of the galaxy and use methods some would say borderline heretical in nature, yet he proved apt in its dispensation and effective in usage.

The Inquisitorial Black Ship Doomslayer was an equally ancient Gloriana class Battlecruiser of 12km in length accompanied by 2 Light cruiser and 3 frigates, the Doomslayer was a veteran of countless engagements from the Eye of Terror and to the farthest reaches of the Halo stars. The ship encountering perilous entities in the void, fought and survived massive void beasts, repelled Dark Eldar raids and persevered against the Ork Freebotas. With a long record of engagements and battles fought on known and unknown regions of space, dozens of skulls etched onto its Ram, signifying the ships its sent to oblivion.

The ships recorded its current history in art engraved across its main hallways and hull, giving ode to the ancient battles already sketched upon the mighty ship in its 10 millennia of service for the Imperium. The magnificence of the glorious domes depicted the witness of events the ancient ship bore witness to, from the Battle for Terra to the incursion into the Eye of Terror to the current end of Weabau, all etched or painted in beautiful art and sculptures.

The attached formations to the Inquisitors Fleet was equally historied and experienced from the dozen of campaigns they fought throughout the centuries, the 657th to 660th Juliarus Rosetteguard Regiments called the fleet home alongside a chapter of Grey Knights, Deathwatch Space Marines, Sister of Battle and Skitarii Maniples. These troops shared a bond of blood that was built upon the countless battles they fought together, those men, women superhuman and cyborg's all lived and died together in the service of the Inquisition.

These forces were accumulated and maintained by the countless worlds of the Imperium and the unquestionable authority of the Inquisition. Men and women some born and raised or made upon the esteemed fleet coming from Hive, Agri, Shrine, Fortress, or Backwater Worlds, of the millions of Imperial Worlds. The Lord Inquisitor shunned none and accepted all that were eager to bring fury to the enemies of humanity, and those who seeked revenge for the actions of xeno or heretics found their bloodlust founded in his retinue.

"Lord Inquisitor, urgent messages from the Ordo Malleus on Terra" Platocres said.

"Thank you, brother captain, if not you have need of me i will be in my quarters" Juliarus stated and left.

The urgent message was sent to the Lord Inquisitors personal cogitator in his chambers, at which Juliarus quickly reached and swept the room for any foreign objects using his Psyker power, and found none. Juliarus sat himself down and started the rites of activation for the cogitator, which hummed a steady tune of activation and the message popped out in front of the cogitator.

The message was written in cyphers decodable only by an Inquisitorial Rosette, or by a sufficiently well studied and experienced Inquisitor, all of which Juliarus qualified for.

The news was concerning and warranted the attention of multiple Inquisitors, at which a call went out for a small conclave to assemble for those in and around the Somnium Stars. The only other Inquisitors around that part was himself and two others, therefore only one or the other called upon the small conclave. The designated place of meeting was Asylus, a once active battleground against the Ork and Tyranid xenos, but now acquired and made into an Inquisitorial Bastion World early in the 40th millennia.

The time Juliarus spent fighting that desperate war against the Tyranids and orks was still fresh in his mind, the endless sea of acid and claw, the green tide that shouted Waaagh smashed against the walls of lasfire and bolt round. The faithful men of the Rosetteguard and other Imperial Guard regiments with the support of the Deathwatch and Grey Knight Marines fought with the tide with equal fury, but victory was not won by them. The imminent loss after an entire year of fighting was overturned when the legendary Legion of the Damned swept the favor of the entire war into the Imperial side within a fortnight.

It was that moment that his faith turned into adamantium, the despair that he fought against was washed away by the purifying flames of the Legion along side the enemies of man, on that particular planet he found the Emperors reality, and would forever be loyal to the end.

Lord Juliarus's quickly relayed his orders to his forces after remembering the entire message and disposing of the evidence of the message as if it never existed. The mighty Inquisitorial Fleet set a course for the Somnium Stars, speeding away from the System's gravity well and aligned itself towards the relative direction of the Somnium Stars, afterwards they began their arduous journey in the warp.

The fleet traveled across the warp with little interruption, occasional Warp madness beset upon a few unlucky crew members was easily dealt with by the Grey Knights. For most of the forces inside the fleet the travel in the Warp was no longer terrifying since most of them already traveled inside for great tracts of time across light years of space, this did not mean they were lax in their preparedness.

The great tracts of time inside the warp was the perfect time for the forces to hone their fighting skill in shipboard combat and urban environments, the Rosetteguard and their Mk 3 Rosette Pattern Lasguns excelled in close quarters combat with its shortened barrel and foldable stock, manufactured exclusively for the Inquisitor by the NG72WS forge world in the Formosa subsector. The Grey Knights and Deathwatch constantly practiced combat upon each other using real Lasguns to attempt to enhance their formidable martial skills, the Sisters of Battle occasionally joined them but usually found the intensity of the fighting too much for their mortal bodies, as such the fleet traveled across the warp always armed and prepared to fight.

The Inquisitorial Bastion World of Asylus was once a heavily scarred and desolate world where the Imperium fought against the xenos menace, but it has been transformed by the Inquisition to a frontier fortress with millions of Guardsmen that stood resolute against the enemies of humanity. The descent upon the Thunderhawks magnified the awe inspiring might of the Inquisitorial Bastion as giant planetary lance batteries reached to the heavens like mountains of technological might. The rows upon rows of Imperial Machines standing idly by waiting for their call to war. The local commander and his guard was mediocre in comparison.

"Welcome back Lord Inquisitor" the Commander said.

"I hoped never to return Baert Simpsorn" answered Juliarus.

"You remembered me my lord, a lowly guardsman 40 years ago" Baert said.

"I remember both vile enemies and loyal warriors of the Imperium, tell me Baert where can I find the Daeff" Juliarus asked.

"In the central spire down 30 levels and inside the train my lord" Baert said.

"Lead the way then" Juliarus said.

The central spire was the shortest structure around and appeared to have no strategic importance. The levels below however contained the nervous system of the entire Bastion, 30 subterranean levels of command, communication, caches was stationed beneath the surface away from prying eyes and weaponry. The deepest of the levels was devoid of equipment except a table with 3 cogitators and basic lighting.

The design of the conclave space was well made, and only a Rosette was capable of activating the correct cogitator, to open the secret door, if not collapse of tons of rock upon the fools who attempted to try the Inquisition.

Juliarus bid his companions to stay inside the elevator and wait for his word to step inside. He approached the cogitator and activated them in the correct order, with a hiss the fake wall slide aside and the veil of warp trickery lifted revealing a lit hallway. He quietly called for his companions to exit the elevator, the Grey Knights and Deathwatch strode forward followed by confused mortals. They walked the hallways until they were stopped upon a adamantium door.

"This is where I continue alone, the hallway to the left is where you can await my return" Juliarus said.

The companions did not argue and walked down the left hallway until the Inquisitor was out of sight. There was a room at its end and opened for them, inside there was Grey Knights and Deathwatch with presumably members of the Assasinorum.

Juliarus presented his Rosette and spoke 'the hardest choice is between bad and worst', the adamantium door hissed aside, inside was a small round table which seated two of his colleagues.

"Scopio, Vriutai, pardon my tardiness" Juliarus said.

"The warp has been unstable, we all just arrived today" Scopio said.

"Within 4 hours of each other, is no coincidence" Vriutai stated.

"This is either the work of the Emperor or Tzeentch, since we are not dead yet I am inclined to believe the former" Juliarus stated.

"The Emperors Tarot corroborates the claim, that this meeting was divined by the Emperor" Vriutai stated.

"The Death Spectres Chapter also corroborates the claim with their Megir reporting unusual warp activity" Scopio added.

"Commander Baert also reported a significant decrease in Daemonic activity on the nearby worlds, maybe just the bleed over effect from the weakening warp storms, I am not sure" Juliarus stated.

"The commander did not inform us when we got here" Scopio said.

"He regularly reports the state of the worlds around the Somnium Stars,this news was bad as such I kept it privy only to myself to prevent mass panic across the sector" Juliarus said.

"The Lord Inquisitor did not deem us worthy of his knowledge on these matters" Vriutai said.

"We are Inquisitors knowledge is power and we guard it well, but right now I called this conclave to discuss the most recent and disturbing report from the Death Spectres and a few notable Psyker both Sanctioned and unsanctioned, a faint glow of something resembling the Astronomicon was perceived by for a brief window of time inside the space surrounded by warp storms" Scopio stated.

"Resembling the Astronomicon is easily attainable through Warp Sorcery, the implication that it could be perceived from around the area is most concerning" Juliarus stated.

"This news in both confusing and terrifying, either it is some warp anomaly that is causing this or there is a Alpha Plus Psyker beyond those Storms capable of resembling the Astronomicon and Emperors warp signatures" Vriutai.

"If so this matter is of utmost importance and will be a threat to the Imperium in both regards" Scopio said.

"I suggest we begin pooling forces around the Somnium Stars, prepare for the worst situation" Juliarus said.

"Troops and resources are stretched thin for the Segmentum, as we speak there are hundreds of wars being fought on hundreds of planets, against Tyranids, Necrons, Traitors, Tau, and an assortment of other Xenos, especially around these areas with 2 Tyranid Hivefleets and the reawakened Oruscar and Sautek Necron Dynasties smashing against our forces" Scopio stated.

"Can we afford to pull troops from current war zones, or possibly Exterminatus the least valued planets to free troops and resources" Vriutai stated.

"I can vouch for any liberal use of Exterminatus after and only after we attempt to pool enough troops from war zones, no earlier" Juliarus said.

"That would waste valuable time, we have little resources and lots to prepare for what may come we cannot afford to wait that long." Vriutai stated.

"Then I will leave you to the mercy of the other Inquisitors, worlds that are fought for are within reasonable parameters of use, and destroying them are a strategic loss in all regards, rash actions may aggregate our precarious position" Juliarus stated.

"Then our course of action is clear, prepare as best we can and pray to the Emperor we are prepared, we shall reconvene in the near future" Scopio said.

"I see sense in the Lord Inquisitor's words and I argree, I will attempt to rally troops from the Galactic Northwest, Scopio I understand you are well known through the Halo Stars I suggest you try your luck there, Lord Juliarus you can attempt to rally the space otherwise assigned" Vriutai stated.

"Agreed and as Lord Inquisitor I call this Somnium Conclave to end, Emperor guide us in this endeavor" Juliarus stated.

The impending dissolution of the warp storms that surrounded the Somnium Stars was a dangerous event since steady streams of xenos battered against the Imperial Bastions and Fortresses along the Eastern Fringe, the freeing of this pocket of space would extend the lines of defence by 3 sectors beside the possible xenos residing inside the pocket to wreak havoc across Imperial Sectors.

The Bastion World of Asylus stirred into a frenzy of activity, dormant machines of war roared to life as countless millions of guardsmen assembled in the main parade grounds and formed themselves in neat rows. The black and chrome of the Inquisition proudly colored their Flak armor and lasguns, their vehicles and artillery pieces equally displaying the Inquisitorial colors, the greatest of which stood at the farthest rear of the formation and cast their shadow upon the assembled lesser, 2 Warhound Titans and a venerable Imperator Titan stood overcasting its shadow upon the entire garrison.

"Faithful Servants of the Emperor, once again the enemies of mankind are massing to deny us our rightful place upon the galaxy, they mass in ever greater number and upon numberless worlds they seek to burn our great civilization, but worry not for it is the Emperors Light that fires from your Lasguns and the wrath of Humanity fired from each bolt and shell, the waves of xeno, daemons and heretics have smashed themselves upon the wall that is the Imperium, and time and time again we have repelled them, because no army is big enough to conquer the galaxy but faith alone can overturn the universe, so speak these words and greet the enemies of mankind with unbendding faith and show them their folly through bolt and blade" Spoke Juliarus.

A chorus of cheers erupted from the assembled guardsmen, their war machines belched a thick black smoke and revved to a fever pitch. The zeal was roused in the Guardsmen and their war machines, the nervousness upon their faces replaced by smiles of sheer determination and assurance in victory, these men would now walk into the Eye of Terror without pause and fight without fear, the fire of faith has been relit in their hearts.

The departure from Asylus was without incident, the speech delivered by the proxy made an amazing distraction. The knowledge of this new enemy from the reaches of the Somnium Stars was to be kept within the Inquisition, the implications that could arise from its discovery could teeter the knife edge the Imperium was on to disaster.

As the Doomslayer positioned itself towards its intended direction, the fleet returned to its eerie calm. The Lord Inquisitor once again secluded himself in his chambers, the myriad of forces in his service returned to their calm practice and training. The Grey Knights and Deathwatch begun their assessment of the new recruits from Asylus, those they found wanting left in the tender care of the Grey Knights, and those found adequate to the brutal training under the Deathwatch, life upon the Inquisitors Fleet had returned to normal.

The sky was bathed in a crimson glow, shimmering of countless lights peered through the blood red sky, the surface scorched to a thick black ash that invaded the mind and body across the entire planet, the the armies of countless automatoms marching against countless other automatons in wading across sea of claw and acid, between the two great forces stood a gold and black throne.

These were the visions that plagued Juliarus since that faithful day the Death Spectres reported their strange sighting, his trusted retinue of Grey Knights gave no concrete answers, the Emperors Tarot gave vague omens of peace and war. The uncertainty of these visions Juliarus vowed to Divine, if it would take every other waking moment between his duties as an Inquisitor he would give it just to lift this feeling of hopeful dread that he carried.

Juliarus often sought solace and answers in the Warp, this is where battles and decisions too hard to contemplate in short amounts of time was made possible. The perception of the warp as pitch darkness but powerful place, was courtesy of his Psychic Hood and the centuries of practice from the Grey Knights.

"The answers you seek are within my reach" a voice said.

"The answers I seek are not from some deceitful creature of the warp" Juliarus answered.

"The answers you seek can only be found in the Warp" the voice said.

"I will endeavor to find it without the aid of you, begone Daemon" Juliarus stated.

"The blood of countless millions will cover the sector, for your inability to see" the voice stated.

Juliarus awoke startled, there was a cold sweat dripping down from his head, he felt tired and exhausted both mentally and physically. That malignant creature has hounded his search for answers in the Warp since the beginning, always whispering into his ear of the answer he possessed. Too many times he became close to accommodating the creature in his dealings, to finally find the reprieve he so desperately craved, but his resolve was unshakeable as his faith and it would seem him through every attempt.

The Inquisitorial Fleet exited the warp. They found themselves within .2 light years from their intended destination, the precision of their jump was a surprise to Julairus and all others inside the bridge. The other ships in the fleet also arrived safely within reasonable distance from each other, all wondering how in the Throne they managed to jump so precisely.

Once more Juliarus felt that his travels were being manipulated by someone, the best of the Navigators could jump this close with great effort near the Astronomicon, but this far into the Eastern Fringe it was highly unlikely that their Navigator managed such a jump himself. The precision was not unheard of, and it would seem at the Emperor was truly guiding their hands.

The planet of Occuldus was unimpressive in any sense it sported a few cities and the sight from high orbit was a small ball of tiny lights concentrated around one massive structure. The continent was simply one big continent surrounded by water, the central mountain ranges was visible from orbit. The only other figure to stand out amongst the simple looking world was that a giant black spire protruded from the center of the mountain range.

The fortress monastery was otherwise impressive than the planet it resided upon, built into the side of the mountains and its entire structure built from Plasteel with turrets afixed atop its bastion walls it was a well built fortress in all regard. The other outlying structures were anti-orbital lance batteries camouflaged as mountain peaks and large pillboxes overlooking the single pathway towards the gates of the complex.

The massive gates swung, and its inhabitants marched out from its dark interior. The rapid march of an entire company of Space Marines flooding outside the gates of. Most of them wore Tactical Dreadnought Armor, more than half a ton of Space Marine had no business moving that slowly, or receiving Juliarus with an entire companies worth of terminators all with their Bolters pointed towards his group.

"The Inquisition has already collected the information they require, our order will no longer tolerate more disregard for our Autonomy" a terminator stated.

"His Holy Majesties Inquisition answers only to the God-Emperor himself as such the Adeptus Astartes answer whenever called upon, and the Inquisition is calling more Astartes" Platocres stated.

"Our brothers are stretched across the Ghoul Stars, we have non to spare" the same terminator said.

"I see no less than an entire company of Astartes here today, I believe the Death Spectres have a great deal left to spare" Juliarus said.

"We have no brothers to spare Lord Inquisitor, seek Astartes elsewhere" the terminator said.

"Do you make a mockery of the Inquisition, all here can see that you are in no shortage of Astartes" Platocres said.

Platocres raised his bolter and leveled it upon the head piece of the insulting terminator, at the movement all attending forces levels their weapons towards each other.

"This is folly brother, we hold numerical and tactical superiority this course of action will lead only to your deaths" the terminator stated.

"The Doomslayer orbits this planet and with it are exterminatus weapons, this cousem of action is detrimental to all involved so I suggest you explain to us why you refuse our demands" Juliarus asked.

"I have already told you Inquisitor we have no brothers to spare" the terminator insisted.

"You leave me no choice" Juliarus said.

Juliarus quickly raised his Bolter and fired towards the offending terminator. The surrounding Death Spectres dove for cover as the Deathwatch and Grey Knights raised their own bolters preparing to engage. The bolter round impacted behind the said terminator and exploded the boulder it had hit, with Juliarus's bolter still smoking from the shot, Platocres already powered his Power Claw which glowed with nascent energy ready to rend the terminator in half.

"Hold, the Astartes tell the truth, they have no brothers to spare" Juliarus stated.

"I told you Inquisitor" the terminator stated.

"There were no Astartes in those suits of armor, Astartes know no fear more so for Death Spectres, after that first shot we should all be filled with Bolter rounds, yet those armours ran for cover in fear, serfs I assume reside in the terminators" Juliarus stated.

"Tactical Dreadnought Armor is no simple Lasgun, what forced you to risk the lives of your serfs to put on this farce" Platocres stated.

"The Death Spectres have been tasked of guarding the Imperium from the xenos in the Ghoul Stars, as such panic would erupt if ever they find we have a severe lack of Astartes" the terminator replied.

"True, even so we require fighting men as many as you can spare" Juliarus said.

"I cannot vouch for the men who you might draft for your needs, our Megir is Lord of this world and he is the one you must consult, follow me" the terminator said.

The endless hallways and reinforced doorways snaked althorugh the labyrinthine passages inside the fortress-monastery of the Death Spectres. The inconsistent paths that go every which way, left followed by down and an endless mix of every direction known. The hallways and chambers sported features, skulls and battles alongside the statues of their primarch and countless heroes of their brotherhood lined the path in some massive chambers a glorious statue of the Emperor was the center piece.

The uniqueness of every Fortress-Monastery truly surprised Juliarus, the color scheme and decorations completely unique to each other in their arrangement. The Death Spectres seemed to favor the eeireness of grey and fear in black, and walking through their home likewise exuded the same feelings. There were only a single instance in where all Chapters shared the same.

Those innocent statues and decorations held sinister uses and deadly facades. The skulls that laced the upper parts of the halls were like those found in Imperial Cathedrals glaring down upon those walking below them, many of the Adeptus Sororitas took note as well, they employed the same defences, skulls that breathed Holy Promethium. The awe inspiring statues that watched over those walking their hallways, know to be inspired by the Imperial Fists and some were probably sortie doors to harass the rear lines of those who attempt to fight through the entirety of the interior. The other myriad of defences employed by Chapters in their own creative ways to varied to distinquish, but all of them meant to make attackers fear every step taken inside, furthered by those Astartes that defend them.

The walked for a couple of hours inside the massive fortress and came upon a massive gateway made of reinforced adamantium. The lone terminator walked up to it and spat upon a glass cogitator that whizzed into activation. A few moments later the massive door groaned and swung open.

Inside the massive throne of black glass shimmered with unnatural light, Juliarus and the other Psykers exposed felt the Psychic pressure exuded by the Black Throne. The lone frame of an Astartes sitting upon it, a body of skin and bone.

"I am no Psyker my presence here is of no help. I will take my leave" the lone terminator said.

"I am Lord Inquisitor Juliarus of His Holy Majesties Inquisition, and I am here to requisition the resources of Occuldus" Juliarus stated.

'Greeting Lord Inquisitor it has been a long while since I have had a conversation, albeit a telepathic one' the Megir said.

"I believe that the Megir has long lost his vocal capabilities, he is no more than a husk of skin and bone" Platocres said.

"The Megir speaks through Telepathy, I suggest most of you lower your Psychic defences to accommodate him" Juliarus stated.

'Welcome to Asylus, members of the Inquisition' the Megir said.

'A warm welcome here and a cold one earlier Master-brother' Platocres said.

'I admit Xaja has an unnatural hostility to members of the Inquisition' the Megir stated.

'The reactions is normal I assure you, much enmity exists between the Adeptus Astartes and the Inquisition' Juliarus stated.

'I thank you for your understanding Juliarus, but the enemies of man are without end as such I must return to my vigil, the souls in Asylus are dedicated to the Emperor and I give permission for you to take no more than 30% of the remaining defence forces and their equipment' the Megir said.

'Thank you' Juliarus said.

The group walked towards the doorway, it swung open and closed the moment they left. The lone terminator noticed their exit.

"I assume your business with our Megir is over" Xaja stated.

"Aye Xaja, a tithe of 30% of the defences present" Juliarus stated.

"Then leave our home and take your tithe, I assume one as exalted as you remembers the way out" Xaja said.

"Yes we do" Juliarus said.

The Inquisitorial Retinue left the planet of Occuldus with 3 million new recruits and a good amount of equipment. The people pressed into Juliarus's service looked very content and easy, a lifetime of protection afforded from being a chapter worlder evident in their actions. The equipments they carried was likewise badly maintained to the ire of the Mechanicus aboard, some barely ran and more than a few would regularly break down.

These people would need to be broken in to the hard and brutal life of being in the greater galaxy, their softness would result in their deaths and others and needed to be addressed. The Deathwatch and other Veterans would gladly oblige in their training, a few broken bones and prosthetics was due to happen, but it would all serve a greater cause.

As the Fleet moved out of the gravity well of the star they prepared to once again travel to distant stars, and prepare to face unreal terrors that lurk in them.


	3. Leonid I

Leonid I

The crisp smell of ionized air invaded his senses, as beams of las fire rained down on his forces turning mortals to smoldering piles of carbon, the seemingly endless stream of las fire of the corpse emperors puppets held his forces at bay. It was insulting that these mere mortals were an obstacle that had to be maneuvered around, that his warband of 100 marines and multitudes of cultists was repeatedly repulsed by nothing more than las fire. The plating of his own armor was greatly damaged with numerous little holes that exposed his very skin and scores of plating scorched off the frame, multiple systems inside were damaged and were unresponsive he had to convey orders through cultist carried vox casters. His brothers likewise did not fare well and some were already in their deep sleep as the damage to their bodies were severe enough to require it, his cultists with fear evident in their eyes as countless were dying around them making little progress. The only comfort in this dire situation was the barking of his storm bolter, as he blasted apart scores of guardsmen with every press of the trigger, a blood red mist emanating from the trenches as his munitions exploded, but he knows this comfort is temporary as he continuously expends his munitions the closer he gets to finding it finally silenced from lack of munitions.

The ice and snow a bright red from the gallons of blood and gore it bore witness to, a hellscape worthy of Bloodthirsters with blood and slaughter fit to make a meager offering, the irony of smelling ionized air in a frozen death world where warmth is a foreign concept and comfort is a dream. The sheer volume of las fire heating the ambient temperature of both trenches a few degrees higher than their surroundings, charred corpses frozen solid by the baleful winds.

"You! gather your men we attempt one last assault on their position" Leonid bellowed towards his vox carrying mortal.

"Yes my Lord, right away my Lord" the vox carrier immediately spoke into his vox.

"I will reap a terrible toll before I fall to these puppets, For the Blood God" shouted Leonid as he sprinted towards the Imperial Lines.

"Blood for the Blood God" shouted the others that joined in his charge.

They charged the Imperial Lines, with his cultists dying by the dozens and his marines falling one by one to concentrated storm bolter fire, though their charge remained cohesive and his men's faces held an unnatural bloodlust as their fears turned into rage as a blood red mist blew in from their rears.

"Look to the skies, the God Khorne has blessed this day, fight!, fight!, and die for the Blood God" bellowed Leonid rousing his followers into a frenzy.

"Purge the Heretic" replied the guardsmen in their trenches as they continued to saturate their enemies with fire, even though the said enemies were almost to their trenches they held firm.

They quickly approached the trenches the deaths around him steadily increased as they closed the gap, though not without reaping their own toll on the guardsmen. This close the carnage of his storm bolter were apparent as limbs of guardsmen littered the trenches and dozens of gore caked guardsmen still fought on.

His storm bolter barked it song of death towards the guardsmen's storm bolter and a mist of blood was the response, a few brave guardsmen redirected their weapons fire towards himself and bathed his armor with their crimson beams, he felt pain as he noted at least 3 las shots tore into his body, he swung his storm bolter around and unleashed fury on those mortals, but only one bark left his weapon and killed only two or his foes whilst their comrades replaced their power packs. He saw only one course of action to take, attack or be finished by another volley of fire, and so he drew his combat knife and sprinted with all the strength his body could muster into the imperial trenches.

"It does not matter who's blood is spilled" Leonid bellowed as he leaped into the imperial trenches bisecting a guardsman in the process.

"Die filthy heretic" bellowed a guardsman swinging his chainsword attempting to cut Leonid in half, only to be nimbly avoided.

"Your corpse emperor cannot save you now" Leonid taunted as he kicks the offending guardsman a good 10 feet away, most likely killing him in the process.

"The emperor is my strength" said the dying guardsman.

"He has brought you to your doom" Leonid stated as he kicked the guardsman over.

"And you have arrived to yours" stated the guardsman holding a melta grenade.

Upon seeing the grenade Leonid leaped for cover, his armor weathering much of the blast. His flesh seared underneath his armor, and he fell to the ground his armor reduced to slag and his body clinging on for dear life. A cloud of purple fills his failing vision as his body entered the deep sleep.

The sky was bathed in a crimson glow, shimmering of countless lights peered through the blood red sky, the surface scorched to a thick black ash that invaded the mind and body across the entire planet, the the armies of countless automatoms marching against countless other automatons in wading across sea of claw and acid, between the two great forces stood a gold and black throne.

"Rise for fate has decided you may still live" a formless voice spoke.

"Rise for their is more blood to be had" another voice spoke.

"Rise for decay has yet to embrace you" a third voice spoke.

"Rise for the galaxy has yet to experience what happens next" the final voice stated.

With a gasp he awoke from his vision, his body ached and felt like glue. Taking stock of his surrounding he was jammed between the ice walls of a crevace, his armor barely providing excess clearance from a hundred meter fall to the bottom. He tried to flex his left arm only to find his armpiece welded to his pauldron and unable to move, he tried his right which made a wet tearing noise as he felt his fused skin tear at the flexing of the arm, he looked to his feet and only found one remained, the other a cauterized stump.

With the amount of wounds he had taken it was a blessing from the dark gods he was still alive. He then remembered the voices and their message, Rise for fate, Rise for Blood, Rise for Decay, Rise to experience, the dark gods did intervene and spared his life, the life of a marine killed by mere mortals, an abject failure compared to others but still draws breath thanks to the dark gods.

With one arm and one leg Leonid climbed himself out of the crevace to the sight of white, an absolute white out even with superior vision his eyes barely saw a meter ahead of him as a blizzard that would kill any other creature blew across the surface, he crawled forward confident about the favor of the dark gods would lead him to their will. A journey of faith, forged in the heat of battle, tempered by the cold embrace of death, and a belief of a greater plan.

For days he crawled towards an unknown destination, and the blizzard hounded his progress and kept the world a blinding white that further strained his journey. He crawled night and day rested only his mind as he mindlessly crawled forward.

His mindless crawling was interrupted when he had collided with something, he reached out with his arm and felt the object, its sharp jagged surface raked across his skin the familiar sensation of rock, and curiously unweathered by the baleful blizzards that hounded him, that meant it was only recently shattered. With a renewed sense of vigor he crawled the perimeter of the rock, using his hands to feel if he was still close once in a while. His efforts were finally rewarded as he crawled, the white around him ceased and he found himself inside a cave.

The mouth of the cave was large enough to accommodate a Leman Russ, and the little light that filtered in was sufficient for him to observe his surroundings. The cave had room to spare its back sloped down presumably the entrance to a cave system, though its seemed the farther he went the darker it would get.

This did not dissuade him, and he crawled once again towards the pitch darkness of the cave into the jaws of the unknown. He dragged his body down a gentle slope, using his sense of touch and hearing to hopefully make some sense of direction he was headed, he grabbed a loose stone and threw it into the darkness, the sound of the stone hitting objects and such gave him a relative picture of the cave, centuries of war honed his senses to identify the direction of where sounds came from.

He crawled a few dozen meters ahead, and once more grabbed a stone to make his heading, with a resounding clangk his stone had hit something metal. He hurriedly crawled towards the metal, but with a crunch the ground beneath him became familiar, the sensation of frozen corpses filled his touch with all the cloth and armor that came with it, reaching around he found his prize, the cold and sleek feel of the las gun.

He set the weapon to fire at the lowest setting, hopefully to conserve its charge. He pulled the trigger that briefly illuminated the entire cave, though the undisputed shape of a Leman Russ and a dozen bodies strewn in piles around it. This was his prize a feast to regain his strength and tool to traverse the wastes.

In a few minutes he devoured some of the bodies and scavenged whatever weapons and supplies these poor souls had on them, a dozen krak grenades, two melta grenades and a badly damaged chainsword. It was nice to finally have something to defend himself with, though it was not his storm bolter but these petty las guns would have to suffice. The other important piece of hardware was this Russ and its condition, was it damaged beyond use, its armor clearly exhibited battle damage with armor plates blasted off and gun muzzles blackened from continuous use, was it empty on fuel and could not be moved, was its systems still working especially its long range vox.

With a single hand he climbs the sponson turret and onto the chassis of the Russ, afterward attempting to open the hatch to enter the tank with a strained grunt he attempted to open the commanders hatch which refused to open. That proved a great deal problematic for his immediate situation he needed to enter that Russ to see if it could be of use, he could attempt to open it with one melta grenade but it could also prove the destruction of the entire turret, krak grenades would not do much to help his situation and las fire would pack too little punch.

He was frustrated this task was normally delegated to a cog boy and he normally only had to issue an order to them, but now he himself lacked the technical skill to open a goddamn hatch further driving the point of his incompetence and abject failure as a Space Marine. The task of unsuccessfully trying to forcibly open the hatch had had slowly infuriated him, and half tempted him to turn the entire tank into slag.

His earlier attempts proving unsuccessful he resigned to slowly melt through the hatch with his acidic saliva, and drop by drop he drooled on the hatch layering it in thick corrosive acid. He resembled one of those drooling Space mutts on Fenris, such an unsightly action would have earned him scorn from even the lowliest of mortals but luckily the ones around him were dead.

After half a day of incessant drooling did he finally melt through the locking mechanism. With a pained heave he broke open the hatch and eagerly went inside, only to find a boltpistol levelled to his head, with practiced ease he slapped aside the firearm and was given resounding thud, he moved towards the assailant only to find a half frozen corpse with its arm shattered and the boltpistol clattering on the floor.

With his resounding success at entering the Russ he quickly shot a few more las shots to make a mental image of the entire interior of the tank. The vox communicator seemed undamaged alongside a most of the other systems inside, he reached for the activation switch and the tank hummed a steady tune of activation until it completely stopped and once again died. He frustratedly slammed his hands onto the console at which the activation sequence restarted, maybe those damned cogboys really do have a reason why they praise wargear.

He grabbed the vox and inputted the frequency that they utilized, and after an hour or so of waiting a response came in.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" bellowed the vox.

"Shut your damn gape, I need extraction on my location" Leonid chastised whoever was on the other side "Do it quick or face my wrath!"

"I don't take orders from a lost damned cultist" the operator replied clearly irritated.

"I am no damned cultist it is I Leonid, combatant ID 256884210102, do it now mortal I need extraction" Leonid commanded to the silence of the other side.

"Right away my lord" a mechanical voice sounded with the familiar sound of a skull crunching in the background.

In the mouth of the cave, he stared up to the sky where the familiar silhouette if a thunderhawk broke through the whiteout and landed with thud a few feet from him. It was not looking very pristine with scores of armor blasted off and potch marks of las fire, even the landing was unnatural a thunderhawk in the hands of a competent pilot would make no sound upon landing.

With a smirk on his face he limbed to the thunderhawk where his ever reliable cog boy stared in disbelief at the extent of his injuries.

"I require internment into a dreadnought, see it done" Leonid commanded as he lifted himself onto the co-pilot seat, which snapped the cog-boy out of his calculations.

"Yes my lord" the cog-boy snapped to attention and hurriedly lifted the ramp and ran towards the pilot seat.

The empty void of space was littered with the remains of voidships, that drifted lazily across their heading with massive pieces of bulkheads and the shambles of imperial iconography. His ship the _ strike cruiser the sole victor stood resolute amidst the drifting wrecks, his ship though relatively new was not pristine, it has already seen its fair number of conflicts in its century of service, this conflict another mark on its growing tally seen from the massive hull breaches on its starboard and aft.

"Worry not my lord, she remains space worthy and more than capable of fighting what remains of the local voidships" the cog-boy informed.

"Who commands her whilst I was away" Leonid questioned.

"Brother Sexrex commands the warband now" the cog-boy informed.

"Do not inform him of my survival, our lives depend on it, I must be interned into a dreadnought, I am incapable of ousting the pretender as of this moment" Leonid commanded leveling his scavenged bolt pistol to the cog-boy head.

"Absolutely my lord, the dark mechanicus has sworn itself to your cause not to that upstart" the cog-boy clarified.

"It would seem having the dark mechanicus as an ally is better than having brothers" Leonid smiled and lowered his weapon.

"Excuse the intrusion my lord, but that weapon does not seem to be in optimum condition" unnamed cog-boy noted.

"Nothing I have is in optimal condition nor is myself for that fact, nonetheless cog-boy if I reclaim my warband you will have an ample position of power as a reward" Leonid stated as they entered into one of the hanger bays.

The hangar bay was deserted only the remains of daemon engines populated the interior with the occasional cultist drifting from the doors. The walk through those halls with his superior hearing clearly gave him a feel of the overall morale of the warband, inside dormitories you could hear cultist engaging in angry sex with male or female, with a few screams of sheer terror near the communal lavatories and trails of blood along the very hallway he walked on.

"The Mechanicus needs no release from pent frustrations, such emotions are a weakness of flesh" the cog-boy stated as they walked the halls.

"It does not matter whose blood is spilt" Leonid said as he pulled himself across the halls.

"Our progress is hampered by your lack of limbs my lords, permit me to acquire a means of transporting you more efficiently" cog-boy stated looking back to the crawling space marine.

"Speak anymore of my missing limbs and I will remove yours, move on and prepare the dreadnought I will arrive as soon as I can" Leonid threatened at which the cog-boy walked forwards.

The manufactorums of the Mechanicus were as noisy and dirty as Imperial Forgeworlds, the soot that covered every crawl space and thick black smoke belched out from tall smoke stacks, it was not very sanitary nor safe for someone without sufficient knowledge about the place. With dozens of mindless servitors and cog-boys engrossed in their work, seemingly oblivious to the world around them as the toiled away at these production machines.

"Through this door my lord" THE cog-boy said, having noticed Leonid's entry into their workplace, at which Leonid promptly followed through.

The dirt and grime of the earlier room was gone, the walls had a mirror finish and the smell of scented candles filled the air, there was no noise coming from the loud manufactorums only a steady hum coming from the assembled dreadnoughts. These dreadnoughts he did not personally know, but to be in the presence of such accomplished and feared warriors also made its impression, the likes of which he would join.

The cog-boy walked towards a dreadnought and his mechandrites started plugging themselves into ports not easily accessible nor seen, and for a few minutes the cog-boy stood there attached to the dreadnought motionless. With a loud hiss the sarcophagus of the dreadnought opened and the mechandrites detached themselves, the cog-boy giving a bow towards the machine before walking back towards Leonid.

"The machine is ready my lord, enter the sarcophagus and be one" the cog-boy stated, gesturing towards the now open sarcophagus. Leonid crawled forward and climbed himself into the sarcophagus, the cog-boy likewise approached once more.

"What comes next may be quite painful my lord" the cog-boy informed.

"I have been blasted to bits already whatever pain may come next will be of little consequence" Leonid said "Get it done"

"Yes my lord" replied the cog-boy and his mechandrites once more interfaced with the dreadnought.

The moment those mechandrites interfaced with those ports, a searing pain invaded the back of his head, as a rod of some metal struck the base of his spine and blasts of electric shock reverberated across his body. The feeling akin to being struck by a rain of autogun fire across his entire body, his superior physiology could not help when faced with a direct neural attack, the only remaining course of action was to endure, and if he survived having almost all his limbs blasted off he would survive this. After a little while the pain became unbearable and even with all his strength his body's nervous system yielded and he fell into unconsciousness.

"This is the first conscious internment of an Astartes into a dreadnought, the process is done to dying Astartes for fear of ending their lives early if done incorrectly" a mechanical voice stated.

"If the Astartes did not survive we will have to tear that great machines sarcophagus out in order to remove the body, which is very likely we will have to do" another mechanical voice stated.

"The Astartes survived after sustaining wounds that would have killed any other marine, I have no doubt he will awaken as a dreadnought" the familiar voice of the cog-boy said.

"My resilience is without question, yours however is in dire constraints" Leonid spoke as he levelled his armaments towards the two doubting cog-boys and turned them into a shower of parts and gore "The targeting on the left armature is off by three millimeters, see that it is fixed"

"Yes my lord, immediately my lord" the cog-boy bowed and approached extending his mechandrites and interacting with the armature.

"When you have finished I suggest you find that little upstart so that I may show him the error of his ways" Leonid the dreadnought stated.

The path towards the bridge was clear, the crew and cultists gave a wide berth for the passing dreadnought that was Leonid, a few Chaos Space Marines were looking questionably towards the massive construct though none approached to question. The bridge itself was as he left it, with a dozen servitors manning different cogitators and a few CSM to provide security, who let him enter the fortified bridge without question, the respect given to the dreadnoughts were ingrained into the collective Astartes minds.

"Who gave permission to wake one of ours great brothers" Sexrex bellowed clearly irked by the presence of Leonid.

"I need no permission from anyone, I am commander of this warband and you are just an upstart" Leonid said through the vox speakers of the dreadnought sounding very mechanical with a flat tone, and leveling his armaments towards Sexrex "I Leonid challenge you to single combat for command of my warband"

"Leonid died at the hands of the enemy, his souls is with Khorne now, do not presume to be him" Sexrex glared at Leonid whilst powering his power claw which hummed to life.

"Leonid is alive and stronger than he has ever been, you now tremble from the sight of my new form" Leonid said as he unloaded a stream of promethium that Sexrex barely avoided.

Sexrex drew his bolter and fired towards Leonid, the rounds bounced harmlessly off the shell of the sarcophagus "You will need more than a few bolters to destroy me, you on the other hand I have more than enough to end"

Leonid once again turned and unleashed another stream of promethium once again being narrowly avoided by Sexrex, though incinerating a few servitors caught in the crossfire "Your promethium tanks will empty before even a lick of flame will touch me, use it more liberally so I may rend you from that shell"

"Your words are all but air, even now my flames lick your armor, you can feel the heat can't you" Leonid said as he sent stream after stream towards Sexrex, all of which grew succedingly closer to turning Sexrex into slag and subsequently alighting most of the bridge on fire killing most of the mindless servitors, with only a few CSM remaining to oversee the combat whilst the cultists fled.

The streams of promethium halted and from the nozzle only a few drops of the fuel fell to the ground "Your out of fuel and out of luck"

"I am but you are out of space" Leonid mechanically said, at which Sexrex looked to his flanks where there was walls of promethium layers thick that made him unable to maneuver "I don't need weapons to defeat you Sexrex, I will crush you under my power fist"

As Leonid approached his footfalls grew louder and louder, with Sexrex attempting to escape through the gouts of flame only to be repelled by the intense heat and his armor claxons warning of severe damage. Resolved to escape alive, Sexrex rushed towards Leonid and managed to cut a few deep gashes into the hull of the dreadnought and removing one armature, but eventually met his pulverizing end at the hands of a dreadnought power fist.

"Who is next" Leonid said, turning towards the two CSM that observed their bout, but none stepped forward for the challenge "Then call the mechanicus for the bridge needs serious repair"

The familiar face or augments of cog-boy and his colleagues entered the bridge, with them a few servitors carrying sheets of metal and cogitators. They began their work shortly after and wordlessly fixed the bridge with promethium torches and other tools connecting cogitators to the ships network, the eerie hum of the mechanicus working was reminiscent of the blizzard that hounded him earlier. He spied himself through a mirror polished sheet of steel being carried across the room, his form was that of a mighty dreadnought and it was glorious, the bloodied gauntlet of his power fist and adjacent sides of the armor gave him a menacing look, like looking at raw strength.


End file.
